


Stories By Wintry Night

by AntigravityDevice



Category: Dinotopia - James Gurney
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 08:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17040701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntigravityDevice/pseuds/AntigravityDevice
Summary: A little village up on the mountains of Dinotopia welcomes unexpected guests on a mid-winter night.





	Stories By Wintry Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waterfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterfall/gifts).



The night crept early to the mountain hideaway of Thermala. It hushed the lively Macrauchenia, drew the mammoths into a close, warm huddle, and paused the human hands at the loom. The few saurians of the village lingered near the fireplaces where the flames danced steadily behind the iron latticeworks; the smallest and the most enterprising creatures had curled around the pipes that brought up water from the hot springs underneath. The deep-dark sky was decorated with a shining tapestry of constellations and aurora. The artists found their paints drying mid-stroke as their eyes strayed to the windows. This was the time for stories.

Visitors were uncommon, especially during the winter, but always welcome, as they brought with them new stories from the lowlands. The children of Thermala flocked to the three guests as soon as the mammoths pulled open the heavy gates, marvelling at the insignia that linked them to the skies and the great skybax. To the disappointment of many they explained they had had to leave their winged partners behind several days ago and continue on foot. The winter winds up in the Forbidden Mountains had been too harsh for them. The visitors, a human couple with their small child, looked plenty wind-beaten and shivery themselves, so they were quickly ushered inside where they received warm baths, mammoth-wool cloaks and slippers, and bowls of thick soup. The local children bit down on their curiosity and waited patiently for stories to come.

The guests were allowed to find their own way around Thermala. The tallest of them, who named himself Will Denison, was clearly drawn to the towers, especially the wide-windowed sunset watcher's gallery. He made some notes in a small, worn book, but mostly star-gazed, lost in his thoughts. His companion hummed as she examined the chambers of the camelids, taking the time to talk to the caretakers of the calves. She introduced herself as Sylvia, and upon learning her family oversaw a hatchery, was eagerly questioned on proper nest-building techniques and egg incubation times. Her own offspring alternated between walking on four feet and two, and sometimes delighted in rolling in baskets of mammoth wool or piles of hay, pretending to have no feet at all. The sweet young laughter was a delight to all who heard it echo through the long Thermala corridors.

Eventually the guests found their way into the story hall. They had already enjoyed a bread puppet theatre performance the previous night, and were now drawn by other voices, promising different, less edible entertainment. It was mid-winter, and so the festival tree was erected and decorated in the hall. Its fresh, evergreen scent added to the comforting atmosphere -- although some saurians found it difficult to resist it, and nibbled at the ends of the lowest branches when they thought no one could see. They were leaellynasaura, a rascally, playful kind of saurian. The humans and other mammals, well used to their ways, just tutted at their behaviour. Occasionally the dinosaurs were caught in a long embrace that prevented them from making such mischief, until they calmed down and cooed in contentment.

Sylvia was the first to speak, complimenting the old Macrauchenia by the low window for his performance in the previous night's puppet theatre. He huffed his thanks, and nuzzled her child -- whom she called Pol -- with his short, inquisitive trunk. Pol giggled and rolled away, crawling on all fours to Will.

"Come here, little Polacanthus," Will said, with feigned exasperation, and picked Pol up to blow kisses against the child's plump stomach, eliciting even more giggles.

"Is the hatchling not bipedal?" asked the only saurian present who spoke human languages, an elderly Timimus called Darana who sat upon a plush woolly mat, holding her head high so all could admire her long, beautiful neck wattles.

Sylvia laughed. "Oh, Pol is drawn to the earth. Two feet on the ground or four, it makes no difference to moving speed, it seems."

"Yet you and your companion are both aligned with the skies. Is that not unusual?" Darana tilted her long head. Her unblinking stare and straightforward questions might've been intrusive, but she was venerable enough to be allowed such indelicacies.

Will set Pol back on the floor. "My good friend Bix says it's nothing to worry about. 'All eggs feel safest on the soft ground,' that's the way she put it."

"What does that mean?" asked Leandu, one of the smallest human children present. She sat under the festival tree and had her short arms around her leaellynasaura companion Alli. Alli's long, soft tail was wrapped around her and she sat without a fuss -- but she reached behind Leandu's shoulder every now and then to furtively peck at the nearest evergreen branch.

Will took her question seriously. "That we should give Pol time to make the decision, I assume. I love Bix dearly, but her practical advice can sound a little... cryptic sometimes." He smiled suddenly. "I still listen to it, of course. That's how I first heard of this place."

"I said we should make the trip. We both missed the mountain air," Sylvia added. The clear skies she was aligned to were in her calm eyes.

Ággi, Leandu's father, nodded sagely over his pipe. "I've been meaning to ask how you knew the path here. Most of our guests arrive with the sky galleys."

"Our skybax friends took us most of the way. Nimbus is strong enough to carry me and Pol both," Sylvia said, with pride in her voice.

Will continued her thought with the ease of long companions. "We're always sorry to bid them goodbye, but we were prepared to do a bit of mountain-climbing. My father Arthur Denison and Bix had assured us that we could pack lightly. Word of your hospitality has travelled far."

The locals hummed and mumbled in pleased tones. Darana nodded slowly, as if she alone was responsible for such an excellent reputation.

"You are most welcome here," she said graciously.

"Play Snowstone Riverstone with me!" Leandu pleaded with Sylvia, already opening the little knitted bag that held the dark and light game pieces.

The rest of the night was passed in quiet conversation and intense gameplay. Alli swooped in to steal one of the game pieces when she judged it was time for Leandu and the other children to retire to the sleeping chambers. For all her impish nature and young age she could sometimes channel the wisdom all saurians held within.

 

*

All through the night, while everyone from Pol to the mightiest mammoth slumbered, the snow pelted down on Thermala. The twilit morning was spent in shovelling walkways from one door to the next, but once finished, they realised they were ankle-deep in freshly fallen powder snow already. Finally, everyone finished up the necessary chores outside and gathered inside, letting the snow fall where it may. And it continued to fall. The sun peeked over the mountains, and sank down again to prepare for the long night, and the wind still whisked snow against the Thermala windows.

They put on an extra puppet theatre performance that day, with sweet bread figures that tasted of cinnamon, but by nightfall the children were getting anxious.

"What about the Boon Sloth?" they whispered, among themselves and to their parents. "Will he make it here? It's the advent tomorrow. Will he be able to find us in the snow?"

Will added another log to the fire. "The Boon Sloth? Who is that? I feel like I've heard the name before."

Little Leandu gasped and exchanged wide-eyed glances with Alli. "You've never been visited by the Boon Sloth? You've never got a single yule gift, ever?"

"Well, yes, I have," Will explained. "But... that was before the dolphins brought me and my father here. And there were no sloths then."

Ággi was sitting in the rocking chair, his pipe replaced by knitting needles. He was making his daughter a new scarf -- from the looks of it, long enough to wrap around her whole body several times.

"A mid-winter festival with no giant sloths," he said, as if tasting the words, trying to imagine such a thing. "And no warm saurians to curl up in your lap, either, I take it? I should hope there was some hot spiced tea, at least, to keep the chill at bay."

It was generally not encouraged to indulge the nostalgia of those not born in Dinotopia. Deep wells of sadness gaped beneath such thoughts, after all, for a life forever left behind. Living in Dinotopia meant looking forward, not back. But Ággi was an inquisitive man, and had passed on that trait to his children.

Sylvia looked at Will with some concern, her back straightening, like she was poised to interfere. Pol rolled off her lap to pet Alli's soft downy feathers.

Will was silent for a moment, staring at the wood crackling in the fire. Then he suddenly spoke, turning to address the whole room.

"I wouldn't want my story to be the only one tonight. I propose a night of stories while we wait. Isn't it the perfect thing to do, when snowed in?"

There was an agreeable murmur. The adults immediately recognised that a distraction would ease the children's concern for the Boon Sloth's safety, and story time was cherished by all. Everyone turned, instinctively, to Thermala's oldest resident, sitting crosslegged in the corner, where she had been teaching two young boys how to make a plaited wool belt. She had the right to the first story of the night.

Esther Volant tutted and put her wools away. "A splendid suggestion, young Will. Although you lot have quite eaten up all my cinnamon bread. Very well then. I suppose none of you have ever heard the tale of the brave Megaladapis and her quest for her missing eye?"

No matter how many bread-puppet tales she told, Esther never seemed to run out of stories. The children and adults alike settled down with their mugs of steaming tea, their knitting needles and play blocks and sweet pies, and were whisked away into a daring quest for an eye, mistaken for first a lantern-berry, then an amber bead, and finally the autumn sun.

 

*

The snowfall did slow down the following day, but as the wind picked up in its stead, everyone gathered in the story hall again for more stories.

Will had had to wait for his turn, for after Esther's tale there had been several stories of the children told through song, and one acted out with stuffed toys that had made everyone laugh until they hiccuped. But now Leandu was tugging at the hem of his tunic.

"I want to hear the story of the yule sloths beyond the sea," she demanded. "Can they not find their way down the mountain?"

Will smiled. "Perhaps. We had to have our presents delivered by a human instead, who climbed down the chimney and put them in our socks while we slept."

The children suppressed giggles at that, imagining someone stuffing precious gifts inside smelly woolly socks. But they listened in rapt fascination as Will described a sled filled with presents, and the names of the flying reindeer pulling it.

"What did you eat? Did you have cinnamon bread?" asked one of the smallest boys, his face covered in jam from his second sweet pie that night.

Will strained his memory. "I seem to recall some sugar cookies at least. We had a great feast that night. I remember green peas, although I didn't really like them, and mashed potatoes with gravy, and a large, stuffed turkey--"

"What's a stuff-turkey?" Leandu wanted to know.

Will started a little, suddenly realising what he was saying. Colour rose to his cheeks. "Oh, um... a turkey is a fat bird. The stuffing was mostly apples and onions, I think."

The story had suddenly taken a turn towards unexpected horror. Almost everyone in the room either gasped or recoiled. Alli let out a sharp, high chirp of terror, her tail fluffing out.

"You _stuffed and ate each other_?" Darana's voice was raised, although she tried to hold onto her dignity. Her wattles were shaking under her chin.

"Breathe deep, friend Darana," Esther reminded her in a patient tone. Only she could speak to Darana as an agemate and an equal. "Young Will Denison came to these shores only two decades ago. Dinotopian ways were not his ways when he was a cub. Will, perhaps we might move from the dinner to entertainment. Do you recall any mid-winter games?"

Will gratefully grasped onto Esther's suggestion, and described card games and songs under the festival tree, and the bag of colourful marbles he had got as a present one year. All of these were more familiar, and easier to stomach than stuff-turkeys, and the mood turned cosy again. Will ended his story with the legend of a mystical plant called mistletoe.

"Its branch looks a little like that," he said, pointing at a bouquet of lingonberry shoots on the table next to Ággi's rocking chair. "And my father said when it was hanging over the door it kept everyone inside safe. When people stopped under the mistletoe... Actually, would you hand me one of those, Ággi? I'll demonstrate."

Will took the lingonberry shoot with plump berries still hanging on it, and gestured Sylvia to come closer. He pressed a soft kiss on her waiting lips, eliciting a pleased smile.

"Did you eat the berries before, or afterwards?" she asked, with a knowing light twinkling in her eyes. "Before, I assume, for the taste."

Leandu clapped her hands together, delighted. "Can you kiss anyone under the lingonberry? Or just people who breathe together with you?"

"Anyone willing, I think." Will couldn't tear his eyes away from Sylvia, their smiles now mirroring each other's. "I never kissed anyone back in Boston. Not even under the mistletoe."

"I want to try it!" Leandu declared, and jumped up from her floor cushion. "Come here, Alli! Bring me a lingonberry branch from the vase!"

Her leaellynasaura companion pounced at the task, climbing up Ággi's leg to his lap in order to snatch at the lingonberry bouquet. By this time, the other leaellynasaura had caught on to the fun new game, and were soon playing tag with the lingonberry branch, bouncing and sprinting around the room to the delight of the children. Even little Pol tried to take part, despite lacking the speed and agility of the saurians and the older children. In the middle of it all, the original purpose of the branch was quite forgotten. Eventually, Leandu declared all the running was making her dizzy, and she curled up on her father's lap to drink berry juice between yawns.

The night was at its darkest, the stars at their brightest, and everyone had not thought about the advent of the Boon Sloth for some time, when a distant sound of a bell made the mammoths stir and bellow out a delighted greeting in a cacophony of sound. Next, the familiar heavy steps thumped through the snow, getting closer and closer. A Megatherium's stride is long, despite its slowness, and soon there was a knock at the door. This resulted in a rush to find scarves, mittens, coats and hats in order to brave the weather outside. The Boon Sloth was greeted at the plaza, where everyone could gather at the same time.

The guests followed suit, at a much less hurried pace. Pol had fallen asleep, but would no doubt wake again upon hearing their name called by the giant sloth. Presents were Pol's favourite thing in the world, after crawling and pretending to be an ankylosaurus.

Sylvia pulled on her woolly hat. "I didn't realise you still remembered so much of your life beyond the sea."

While Will's reminiscing had made him thoughtful, he didn't appear melancholy. "Most of the time, I don't. But when it's the right sort of night... my thoughts seem to spiral closer to that life."

Sylvia picked up Pol and placed the child in his arms. "Well, those thoughts brought forth some interesting stories. I don't see any harm in that." She hugged both Will and Pol closer. "I'm glad we decided to come here. Merry mid-winter, Will."

They almost had the story hall to themselves by this point. Almost. In the corner, two leaellynasaura had made peace after their wild chase, and were rubbing their snouts together affectionately. Then they each plucked a lingonberry from the branch between them, and ate them with relish.

"And to all a good night," Will murmured into Sylvia's hair. It was all he could remember from the poem from across the sea. He found he didn't really miss the rest.

They linked arms, and stepped out to meet the giant sloth. He knew their names, and was waiting for them.


End file.
